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The wretched elf led him into the dark parlor, not bothering to light the lamps or anything more than the fireplace. Sirius could not believe he was back in this house. Why the fuck did he think this was a good idea?
He wasn't a coward, running now was not an option. Walburga would already know he was here. The urge to pace was strong, but he couldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing how bothered he actually was by having to speak with her.
Sirius adjusted his leather jacket, the Auror department banner patched across his back. Underneath, an enchanted dog howling at the moon with the shadows of a stag and a wolf was etched. He wore the familiar, worn-through leather like armor, layered with her love.
Sirius knew he shouldn't have come alone, but if his parents were going to hear it from anyone, the news of Regulus’ death and undeath should come from him. The terrible end his brother had faced was enough to make Sirius re-evaluate the anger and hatred he still carried for him. Marls would have told him, as Lily had, that the anger was masking the pain and disappointment. The fact that his brother's remains had been so disrespected and defiled sent a chill through him just thinking of it.
Shaking it off, he forced himself to sit in the chair, spinning his rings around his fingers. Time passed slowly as the weight of his memories and the magic of Grimmauld Place crushed in. Walburga obviously made him wait to assert power.
When she appeared, it was in some incredibly fine day robes and her hair was perfect. Her curls perfectly in place in the severe bun at the back of her head. She was dressed, like he was, for war.
The angle of her head put her nose in the air and superiority oozed from her. Fuck. He should have just found Orion at the Wizengamot. Why was he here? Why did he think he owed her anything?
She seemed to be thinking the same thing. Apparently, her perfect Pureblood manners didn't apply to him. Walburga just stared, not offering a greeting or tea. He hadn’t been this close to her since the night he ran away.
“Walburga Black, I am here on official Ministry business. I have information you will want to hear.”
She waved a hand for him to continue as her ramrod straight posture seemed to tense further.
“It is my duty to inform you, as his next-of-kin, that Regulus Black, previously reported missing, was located. He has been found deceased.” The formal ministry words were sour on his tongue.
There was a nasally wail from the hall as Kreacher overheard his words, “My poor master!”
The door to the hall slammed shut as a rush of magic erupted from Walburga, pushing Sirius off his feet and back into the chair and muffling the sound of Kreacher's cries.
“How?” The question was a demand. An Order.
Sirius took a deep breath, “He was killed by Inferi.”
“An Inferus?” She clarified.
Sirius shook his head, shaggy hair escaping its professional queue. “Many. He has been dead for about two years. Voldemort's creations killed him.”
He looked up, Walburga was closer. Her mask of superior disinterest was crumbling and she was blinking fast.
“I am here to inform you that I claimed the body of Regulus and detained it, so he could receive proper rites, not just fiendfyre. It’s the only reason I'm here. We had our differences, but he, and you, deserved at least that much.”
The words didn’t come easily and stirred a maelstrom of feelings in his chest as he broke from the mold and his formal tone. “Regulus is dead.”
A tremor shook through Walburga. Her face twisted with pain.
“I will leave you to mourn your only son and heir.”
Fuck. He had been doing so well. The raging part of him couldn’t resist a final jab for the emotions her presence stirred up. Pushing his pain and confusion onto her came far too easily.
Her eyes turned on him, sharp as knives, but tremulous, “You would speak of your brother that way? Even now?”
"Mum..." That title hadn't left his lips in the direction of Walburga Black in at least three years. But, in this moment of pain and grief, all he could do was swallow the knot in his throat. As she stared, his grey eyes–her eyes–became wet and a choked sob rattled in his chest.
"You stupid, foolish boy," she gasped sharply.
Sirius tensed for the rebuff he knew was coming. There was a reason he had stopped calling her Mum. A reason that even while telling her about his brother's death, Sirius could not stop himself from snapping.
The moment between them stretched.
"You are of and from me." Her tone softened, defeated. "Too much like me at times."
Sirius stared, brows furrowing.
The erstwhile heir of the House of Black jerked back at a sudden, but hesitant, outreach of a cool hand. When she did it again, stepping closer, he allowed it.
Against his better judgement, he leaned into it. Sirius could not resist the call of that which he had missed and craved for so long. Sirius didn't know what to say. He was rarely struck silent and he had never seen his mother cry. Never.
Tears began streaming silently down her lined face. Walburga looked older than the last time he had seen her. If anything could change her, the death of her precious silvered Regulus would. Her perfect, untarnished boy.
"You are my bright star. Not my first child, but the first to survive . You were named for the brightest star in the sky," Walburga said, in a hushed tone. She still somehow managed to read his mind. If his rudimentary occulumency shields weren't still putting up a fight he would have supposed she was using legilimency. The Lady of this dark and dreary home was as emotionally stunted as ever, unable to look at him while she spoke. "You were my light in a very dark time."
Shock was an understatement when she spoke of him, not Regulus, "Mum?"
Walburga carried on as if she hadn't heard him, her hand continuing to pet through his hair. She didn't even hesitate on the earring her bony fingers caught on. "I have lost one child, but it seems Magic has returned my polestar, ensuring I don't go adrift with grief.”
Sirius was shocked to stillness, as his mother caressed his curls like he was five again. The tears and the gentle touch were the perfect storm to put him off his rhythm and leave him defenseless against this assault.
If she had shouted or insulted him, the rebel in him would have risen to the occasion, but this? Emotional vulnerability and discussions of his lost siblings, more than just Regulus?
Sirius had been distantly aware his mother struggled to conceive, like many pureblood women. That's why there were fears among his parents and uncle Alphard that Bellatrix's or Narcissa's children would inherit before his birth. He hadn't realized what that actually meant.
This is not the first child my parents have lost .
The fragile moment stretched out between them. The snuffling cries of Kreacher faded and the tears streaming down his mother’s face slowed. Her hand didn’t. Small steps brought Walburga closer, until his head leaned against her side as she soothed herself with the repetitive motion of combing her fingers through his hair. It was now almost entirely free of the hairtie he had holding it back.
Sirius didn’t fight it. He knew he’d regret it later, but for now, he let the child inside of him that had been desperate for her approval and affection take the reins. Sirius loved and hated his mother in equal measure. He loved her enough to allow this.
Besides, it would be inhumane to leave her alone now, not when her breathing was still broken up by shuddering breaths and restrained sobs. Sirius was working hard to not allow the casual cruelty of the Pureblood culture he grew up in to poison his future.
Lily will be proud of me for staying . That’s the mantra he repeated in his racing mind.
The sound of the front door shutting broke them from the odd trance. Both of them too shocked and afraid to say something and break the moment themself.